To Soothe a Fretting Feline
by Ancalime8301
Summary: When Spencer isn't happy, everyone knows it. The trick is finding a way to calm him without giving him what he wants...


Written for the LiveJournal community Watsons_Woes for their July Writing Prompts challenge. The prompt for day 10 was: _Musical prompt: Chaconne for violin alone (J. S. Bach, Partita for solo violin No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004)._

Part of my Spencer-verse (primarily canon with a few details borrowed from the Granada TV series).

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_To Soothe A Fretting Feline_

Spencer was not happy and he made sure that everyone within earshot knew it. The mournful wailing by the door, plaintive yowling by the window, and pathetic whines whenever anyone so much as glanced in his direction sorely tried my patience, but I refused to yield.

His grievance: I was keeping him indoors for his own safety until the wound on his paw healed. Since he was extremely adept at slipping out without anyone noticing (and he moved much more quickly than Mrs. Hudson), ensuring he remained indoors meant that an extra set of doors must stand between him and the outside world. Thus, he was cooped up in our rooms and not pleased about it.

Unfortunately for Holmes, he did not have a case to resolve, so he was present for the racket that Spencer put up whenever he wasn't sleeping. To my surprise, Holmes did not find some other reason to leave me to deal with the fretting feline. Instead, he seemed almost amused. Every so often he would to tease Spencer, letting a string hang off his desk or casually tossing a balled up piece of paper toward the wastebasket and failing to hit his target.

I tried to distract Spencer using my own means, petting him and scratching behind his ears and under his chin, but invariably Spencer only tolerated this for a few moments before remembering that I was not his friend and scampering away. When he rubbed against my trouser legs, it was a signal that I was to follow him and he always led me to the door, then sat before it, looking up at me beseechingly and meowing.

After two days of that nonsense I thought he might give up, but no such luck. He did sleep a fair bit, so in that we were fortunate, but he remained as fractious as ever during his waking hours. By that afternoon, I despaired of having a moment's peace while he remained indoors and was nearly ready to give in to his demands even though his paw was not yet healed enough to be safe from contamination.

Late in the afternoon, Holmes turned his attention to his violin, which he had not touched in quite some time. Spencer was fascinated by the bow and tried to rub his face along the tip before Holmes intervened. When Holmes began to tune the instrument, Spencer watched with a wide gaze as if trying to determine how that noise was made.

The first piece that Holmes played was a sprightly number that Holmes had favored in the past. Spencer yowled as if singing along. Holmes looked irritated and I smothered a laugh behind my hand.

The next bit Holmes tried sounded German to my ears. Spencer cocked his head as if trying to decide what he thought of it, then resumed his mournful wailing. Holmes broke off mid-note and sighed. "Your cat does not seem to appreciate music," he said.

"Perhaps it's only that he hasn't heard anything he likes," I said, intentionally making it sound like a challenge.

"We'll see about that," Holmes replied and lifted his bow again. "Let us see if he likes one of the masterpieces for violin."

He launched into a complicated piece that I had heard him practice once or twice before. Spencer's ears perked up at the opening chords and he sat in an attentive pose, his tail curled around his front paws. A minute or so into the song, he trotted over to me and leaped into my lap, his eyes still on Holmes, no doubt still trying to find out just where the sounds were coming from.

When he had settled on my lap, I took a chance and began gently petting him. I felt him relaxing and saw his head drifting down to rest upon his paws; within minutes his eyes were closed and he was snoring softly.

I was nearly ready to follow his lead by the time the song ended, and Holmes eyed us both with a look of exasperation. "Music cannot properly be appreciated if you're not awake to hear it."

"Perhaps," I conceded. "But at least he isn't meowing."


End file.
